


Keep You One Disaster Less

by wreckingtomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (wow i didn't know that was a tag but it applies kind of), Angst, Existential Angst, Fluffy Ending, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Management issues, Suicide Attempt, but there IS a happy ending i promise, wow these tags make it sound really dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:04:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckingtomlinson/pseuds/wreckingtomlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can show you what it’d be like if you never existed,” Niall says as casually as he’d mention going to McDonald’s and getting lunch. </p><p>Louis’ frown returns, and he chews on the inside of his cheek bitterly. “I bet it’s loads easier for everyone else.” </p><p>Niall’s face turns to a look of sympathy. “No,” is all he says.</p><p> </p><p>Or, an It's A Wonderful Life/The Greatest Gift AU where Louis is ready to give up, Harry does, Liam and Zayn don't know how to help, management is taking a toll on all of them, and Niall's trying to earn his wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welllll I started this over Christmas while I was on a Christmas movies kick, so here I am finally posting it as I'm working on it. Inspired by _It's A Wonderful Life_ and the original short story it was based on, "The Greatest Gift" by Philip Van Doren Stern (which you can read [here](http://kbancroft.weebly.com/uploads/2/8/3/7/2837022/the_greatest_gift.pdf)), and also kind of including some elements of Charles Dickens' _A Christmas Carol_.
> 
> All those necessary disclaimers: I don't own anything here, the characters or the original stories/films that this fic is based on.
> 
> I'll be posting trigger warnings in the beginning notes of the chapters where needed.
> 
> Title from [The Last Thing On Your Mind](http://youtu.be/LjB9AyVSW0k) by Lights.

There are few questions Louis Tomlinson hates more than “how are you?” 

It’s easily the question he’s asked most often. In interviews, by fans, by his bandmates. An easy question that demands an easy answer: “I’m good.” And to the world, he is. How can he be anything but? He’s in One Direction, arguably the world’s biggest boy band. He’s fit—he has entire blogs dedicated to him and his cerulean eyes and his famous curvy bum. He’s the loud one, the sassy one, the one who’s always laughing. He’s Louis Tomlinson, and Louis Tomlinson is golden. 

It’s with his bandmates that an inkling of how he really feels comes out. Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, and Harry Styles know that Louis is not, in fact, good. They know the media pressure is getting to him, they know how much he hates the rumours, they know that all he wants is to be left to his own devices and the scrutiny to go away. They know he wants freedom. But Liam and Zayn don’t know how to help. 

Only Louis’ boyfriend knows what’s truly going on in his head. Harry is more than just another bandmate and he always has been. When they first met, they knew, and it was only a matter of time before they entered a relationship that ran beyond friendship. Harry knew, always knew, what Louis was feeling, what Louis needed. 

But tonight, Louis feels very, very alone. He’s stood out on the balcony of another fancy hotel in another city that isn’t home. Harry’s over in Liam and Zayn’s room watching a movie; Louis had declined, wanting to be along with his thoughts. 

Louis sighs and leans his forearms on the balcony railing. The metal is cold on his skin, but he doesn’t mind. It’s a minor pain compared to what they’ve been through over the past week. 

The wind ruffles his hair, gently pulling his quiff apart and letting the chocolate strands fall over his eyes. He doesn’t bother to brush them away. 

Louis closes his eyes, the wild road that was the last three and a half years playing behind his eyelids. 

 

~ 

 

They told everyone they met in the men’s toilet on X Factor, and that was true. The fans speculated that Harry’s “Hi” tattoo and Louis’ “oops!” tattoo signified the first words said to each other, and that was true too. 

Louis walked into the bathroom much the same way he did whenever he entered any room—by kicking open the door and generally announcing his presence with a good deal of noise. But he wasn’t alone. Standing in front of the mirror was a boy with dark curly hair tucked up under a grey beanie. He had one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other resting on his stomach, and was singing at the top of his voice. 

When Louis came in, the boy stopped. “Oops,” he said sheepishly. 

Louis gave the boy what he hoped was a friendly smile. “Hi.” 

The boy had looked ready to bolt, but he seemed to relax at the greeting. “I’m Harry.”

“And I’m Louis.” 

Harry, it turned out, was sixteen and from Holmes Chapel, and Louis thought he was rather charming. Before long, they were having a laugh like they’d been best friends for years. 

Louis saw Harry around from time to time, flitting around in that little beanie and winning over just about everyone he spoke to. They didn’t really speak again until they both got the news that they’d been cut. 

Louis walked off the stage, head hung and lips pressed together, determined not to cry. Here he was thinking he actually had a shot at something. _Stupid, stupid,_ he chastised himself, shaking his head. _Go back to football—or maybe you’re just shit at that, too._  

Then he saw Harry standing by himself in the middle of the empty space. His beanie was off, balled up in his fist, and he was crying into it. 

Louis walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Harry,” he said softly. 

Harry sniffled and looked up through red-rimmed, watery eyes. “We didn’t make it, Lou.” 

They went in for the hug at the same time, embracing each other and clinging, as though they were each other’s lifelines. “I thought for sure you were gonna get it,” Louis choked out. 

They pulled away, and then a bunch of other boys were with them and his name, as well as Harry’s, was being called. Louis’ hands went straight to his mouth, and he chewed on his fingernails nervously. Four of them were called in total. Louis vaguely recognised the others. One was some kid who’d refused to dance at one point, and the other was the kid who’d been getting a fair amount of attention because he’d auditioned two years before and had been sent home just before live shows. Then the four of them were up on stage again, and the judges were saying some things but all Louis really knew was that Harry was shaking like a leaf next to him. And then Simon said the words that changed their lives: “We’ve decided to put you through as a group.” 

This was it! They were through! They weren’t going home! 

Louis wanted to shout but there was no air left in his lungs to expel. He jumped into the air, hands curled into victorious fists. Harry just dropped to the ground for a few seconds. Louis was about to sit down next to him and hug him when Harry stood up and came toward him. His green eyes were alight with something Louis couldn’t place, and he didn’t know why, but his first reaction was to jump again, this time at Harry. And then he was in Harry’s arms, the younger boy picking him up off the ground. Louis’ knees gripped Harry’s waist and he clung, partially because he didn’t want to get dropped and partially because he needed something to convince him this was all real. 

But it was. And it was only just beginning. 

 

~ 

 

They made it through to live shows on Simon’s instinct. Every week was much the same. Rehearse, mess around, goof off with some of the other contestants, rehearse some more, film a video diary, perform, hold their breath through another round of eliminations. As the weeks progressed and the band—One Direction, as Harry had named them—grew in confidence and popularity, the four of them grew closer. Louis considered Harry, as well as Liam Payne and Zayn Malik, his other two bandmates, as close to brothers as he could. It didn’t take long, really, before they were all having a laugh like they’d known each other all their lives. Nor did it take long for Louis to realise that Harry was feeling like more than just a brother. 

Looking back, they couldn’t have been more obvious. Kisses on the cheek, overt touching and staring, that sort of thing. But however clear it was to anyone looking, they denied any rumours of a relationship. 

Then they were eliminated, and all of a sudden everything was gone. Just like that, the journey was over. 

~ 

Louis was terrified out of his mind, and he knew the others were, too. They’d signed with Simon just days after leaving the show, but there was no promise of success. There wasn’t even a record yet. But they were determined to make the most of the X Factor tour and cherish the weeks they’d get to spend together as a band. 

It was the last song of the last show, on a stage in Cardiff. Honestly, most of it was a blur to Louis; it seemed to be a universal rule that things you want to happen slowly always go by too fast. 

So, right before Harry sang his last few notes, Louis pulled him into an embrace. It could be the last time they ever sang together onstage, if their album did poorly. None of them knew where they’d go from there. Seize the moment, Louis thought, and held Harry close to him. Harry kept singing but locked his eyes on Louis’, singing the final notes of what could have been their last tour directly to him. 

If Louis closes his eyes and loses himself enough, he can still conjure up the fierceness of the hug Harry gave him after the song ended. 

 

~ 

 

After that, life had never moved so quickly. The first year passed in a flurry of album signings, varsity jackets, interviews, stripes, tours, plaid shirts, events, and chart-topping success. Louis could barely keep it all straight. Through it all, the four grew even closer, if possible. 

It was near impossible to keep track of time. Louis didn’t remember what city they were in the night that he and Harry stumbled back to the hotel room they shared, high on adrenaline and pure energy. 

Harry cracked some awful joke as Louis slipped his braces off his shoulders. To this day, neither of them is able to place the how or the why, but they remember the hesitant kiss that Harry pressed to Louis’ mouth. Harry would say later he remembered Louis pulling away with a look of mixed awe and curiosity and excitement and fear, and Louis would say he remembered the pink flush on Harry’s cheeks and the stuttered apologies that followed. They both remember the conversation they’d had that night. 

They certainly remember leaving the hotel room hand in hand to knowing smirks from Liam and Zayn. 

 

~ 

 

It took only days for management to get wind of Harry and Louis’ newfound bromance-turned-romance. The next time the group was back in London, Harry and Louis were pulled in for a meeting with a stern-faced woman named Maureen. She said she was part of the band’s publicity department. Louis had never met her or even heard of her before. 

Her slicked-back blonde hair reminded him of a primary school teacher he’d had that he hadn’t liked. She was dry and concise; she slid a stack of photos over the desk and said simply, “Explain.” 

In the photographs, they were not-so-subtly whispering, touching, gazing, and sometimes even trying to sneak a kiss—all while onstage. 

Louis glanced at Harry, who looked rooted to the chair unable to speak. So Louis came out and said it. “We’re dating.” 

Maureen narrowed her eyes. “You can’t.” 

“Who says?” Louis challenged. 

Maureen sat up straighter, like a peacock trying to assert its dominance. “I am the representative for your public image. I make sure your bad press is diffused. I am responsible for the ‘teen heartthrobs’ that the girls see on their merchandise.” 

“So how’s this going to affect our image?” 

“You know very well that every girl has a favourite member of the band. You have to be accessible, but not too accessible. Make them think they have a chance with you. Because frankly, your looks are at least half of your appeal. These are teenage girls we’re talking about. The music is not nearly as important as how you appear to them.” Louis rolled his eyes, but she kept talking. “If we take two band members—that’s half the band—off the market, what happens? You’ll lose the girls who had either of you two as their chosen favourite. Now say they’re off the market because they’re dating each other. Do you want homophobic slurs? Do you want conservative groups banning your music?” Her voice had risen by the end. Harry still looked frightened, but Louis knew exactly how to counter it. 

“Maureen, have you heard of Larry Stylinson?” 

She shook her head. “No, I haven’t. But what does that have to do with anything I just told you?” 

Louis pulled out his mobile phone, pulling up manipulated photographs and long blog posts and Tweets, then sliding it across the table to the woman. “Larry Stylinson is Harry and me. It’s the name the fans gave us. Like a couple name.” 

Maureen looked up from the phone sharply to glare at Louis. “What does this mean?” 

“It means there is a significant section of the fans who will support us if we come out,” Louis stated. “Look at this stuff. They _want_ us to come out. They want us to be in a relationship. They’ve been analysing every single move we’ve made from the beginning and to a lot of them, we already _are_ in a relationship. So if you think the fans will take badly to this, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to disagree.” Louis sat back in his chair, his argument finished. 

Maureen sighed. “What about the media? What will they say?” 

“I don’t care what they’ll say,” Harry spoke up out of nowhere. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“I’ll make you a deal. You won’t like it, but it’s the best thing for all of us.” She leaned forward in her seat, long nail clacking against the lacquer. “We’ll let you come out. We’ll let you be public. But when it comes to the papers, to the media, we will not support you. Our publicity team will not defend you against anything they say. Homophobic slurs, any of that. You’ll have to deal with it yourselves. You want control over your relationship, you will have it all.” 

“Deal,” both boys said in unison. 

 

~ 

 

The deal might have let them be out and public, and the fans were just as receptive as Louis expected them to be, but the media was relentless, like a dog on a leash just short of a prime rib. 

Conservative outlets slammed the pair for being out; some liberal outlets even claimed they were faking the relationship for attention. And of course, Tweets from unsupportive individuals poured in by the thousands. If they were paid based on the sheer number of homophobic slurs that came Louis and Harry’s way, album sales could drop dramatically and they would still be the richest boy band in the world. Louis was close to deleting, but management barred him, so he just stopped reading the notifications. Harry wasn’t dealing quite as well. Breakdowns were common, but Louis was there every time. His neck was Harry’s crying place, his hair a safety rope, his soothing words soft, warm rain. 

The tabloids, meanwhile, seemed to be fixated on making Harry out to be a womaniser. Every week there was something new. A new woman who claimed Harry had hit on her. A new Photoshopped image of Harry holding hands with various skinny, straight-haired models. 

They both knew it wasn’t true, but the rumours hurt all the same. 

Maureen kept her promise—with the exception of Liam and Zayn’s support, Louis and Harry were well and truly on their own. Louis had always thought it a cliché and an exaggeration, but he finally understood the feeling of “us against the world.” 

It was that way for two long years. 

 

~ 

 

It had been a long, tedious day. Louis had suffered through an interview where he wasn’t allowed to sit next to Harry and a photoshoot where he’d been shouted at for pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek. Louis hadn’t even tried to hide his agitation both times—it had been years since they’d been kept apart like that. 

Then the Skype call came. 

The four of them were in Harry and Louis’ room, crowding around the laptop on the desk and elbowing each other out of the way playfully. 

“It’s the new management company,” Harry said, finger hovering over the “accept call” button and looking significantly at Louis. 

Louis’ breath caught in his throat, and his hand found Harry’s under the table. “If what we’ve been hearing is true, then things are about to get a lot better.” 

Liam nodded. “I heard something about more creative freedom.” 

“And maybe you two won’t have to fend for yourselves anymore,” Zayn added. 

“Here goes nothing.” Harry answered the call, and the four of them watched as the face of a middle-aged, shiny haired man came into view. 

“Hello, One Direction,” he spoke in a deep yet clipped tone. 

Louis waved and smiled. “Hi.” 

The man—David, he introduced himself—wasted no time, diving straight into the conversation. For twenty minutes, it was all business—album promotion, endorsement possibilities that were now open to them, opportunities to expand their market. The boys exchanged excited glances as David outlined a policy that gave the four of them, as Liam had mentioned, a greater deal of freedom with their sound, starting with the next record. 

“Yes!” Harry exclaimed. “We can be the indie band we’ve always wanted to be!” 

“The indie band _you’ve_ always wanted us to be,” Louis teased him, poking Harry in the face while Liam rolled his eyes and Zayn laughed. 

David’s eyes fixed on Harry and Louis and seemed to narrow. “Mr Styles, Mr Tomlinson. May I speak with you alone?” 

Harry squeezed Louis’ hand tighter under the desk. “Of course, yeah, sure.” 

“We’ll leave.” Zayn stood and left the room, Liam close behind. 

Once the door clicked shut David began, “Now. We need to discuss your…relationship.” 

“Oh, yeah. Hey, can you maybe tell us why we were kept apart today?” Louis asked. “That hasn’t happened in a long time.” 

David pursed his lips, leaning forward in his seat. “Yes. About that. I understand your last management company was fairly lenient with you two.” 

“Not really,” Louis protested. “They weren’t happy about us being out and public, they let—” 

“They were lenient,” David cut him off. “We cannot have that anymore.” 

It was rare that Louis was struck without a comeback, but in that moment he found his jaw dropped, words escaping him. They couldn’t have _what_ anymore? 

Harry spoke up, voicing the question that didn’t make it to Louis’ tongue. “What d’you mean by that?” 

“They let you flirt and tease and kiss in public. We can’t have you boys out like you are. It’s hurting your image as a band, not to mention inappropriate.” 

“Right, I suppose the smashing success of our third album and the upcoming tour is really indicative of how our relationship is hurting the band,” Louis said dryly. 

David shook his head. “That’s not what I mean, Mr Tomlinson, and you know it.” 

Louis’ eyebrows shot up. He knew his response was a little sassier than was necessary, but that was just how he _was_. To have someone call him out on that was really, really off-putting, to say the least. 

Harry snorted. “The fans have been nothing but supportive from the off,” he pointed out. “Ever heard of ‘Larry Stylinson?’ The fans saw our relationship before we did. If us dating was going to negatively impact the band, it would have when we first came out. Why now, two years later?” 

“And what the hell did you mean by ‘inappropriate?’” Louis jumped back in, his words found again. “We’ve never done anything really bad in public. We don’t go out and sit on the grass and snog each other’s faces off like some celebrity couples out there.” He paused. “Alright, Harry touches my bum sometimes,” he conceded, “but that’s the worst it gets.” 

“What I’m telling you is that none of this can happen anymore,” David said, his voice rising sternly. 

“Alright. So we’ll keep to ourselves, then. Not a problem,” Harry said. 

“That’s not enough. We need you to break up, or at least—” 

Louis was on his feet before David finished the sentence. He didn’t even want to hear the “or.” He just knew that this was wrong, all wrong, in every way. “What kind of management _are_ you, to keep Harry and me apart like this?” he spat out. “Look at our sales. Look at our fans. If you think breaking us up will do anything but cause loads of trouble and everyone calling bullshit, then I don’t know who the _fuck_ you think you are.” 

His anger pounding in red, angry waves in his eardrums, he stood and stormed out of the room. Harry was calling after him, but he let the door slam behind him anyway. 

Louis ran down the hall, stumbling over his feet, chest heaving with sobs he vehemently refused to let escape his lungs. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch David in the mouth. He wanted to wrap his arms around Harry and hug tight and never let go. 

His fist collided with walls and he didn’t know why. He figured it should hurt, but it didn’t. Eventually, he collapsed in the middle of the corridor, small body shaking and his fists balled by his eyes. 

He didn’t know how long it was until Harry found him. Louis uncurled himself from the fetal position and wiped uselessly at the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. He didn’t even know he’d cried. 

“Lou.” Harry knelt down by Louis’ face, green eyes wide and light with concern. 

“I hate him, Haz, I hate him for trying to break us up and telling us what to do and what not to do. I hate it. I thought this was going to be better. I guess when people told us it’d be better they only meant the business, the music. And it is. But I had no idea it was going to be like this for us. I hate it. I hate it,” Louis babbled, his voice breaking as he reached blindly for Harry. 

Harry’s hands found Louis’, gently prying his fingers out of the fist. “Babe, your hands…what did you do?” 

Louis blinked and tried to focus on his hands. The skin on his knuckles was bright red, and unclenching his fist hurt. “Ow,” he muttered sulkily. “I think I punched some walls.” 

“Come on, Lou, get up. I haven’t told you what he said after.” 

The anger returned in a flood. “I don’t give a _fuck_ what he said after,” he growled. “He wants to break us up. That’s all I need to know.” 

“No, no, Lou, he said more after that. It’s no better,” Harry said quietly, helping Louis sit up on the floor. “He said if we didn’t break up, we’d have to stage it.” 

“Can he do that? Where in the contract can they do that?” 

“There’s a clause that basically says that management has the final word over inter-band relationships,” Harry said sadly. 

“Isn’t there a loophole? There’s got to be a loophole.” 

Harry shook his head. “We’ve already signed. The time to pick through the contract passed. We have no choice,” he whispered. “He said that if we just suddenly stop acting like a couple without breaking up, it’ll be really suspicious.” 

“The fans’ll figure management’s behind the breakup, too. You know how they are.” 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t like it either, but I don’t know what to tell you.” 

The next days saw them tiptoeing awkwardly around each other, barely speaking. Liam and Zayn knew something was off, but neither of them pried. Louis would go the entire day without touching Harry, which was a lonely and foreign feeling. He knew his smile wasn’t reaching his eyes, that his laugh was hollow, that the jokes came forced. Harry, meanwhile, just seemed distant and withdrawn. It was like the fire left him, dulling his eyes and his spirit down to a weak ember. But at night, they still climbed into bed together, holding on tight until the morning came and the stony silence resumed. 

On the fourth day, Louis had enough. He had enough of not talking, of not touching, of feeling like he and Harry were on opposite sides of the world. The frustrations of the past days came out in a misguided flood, and he found, to his chagrin, that he couldn’t dam it. 

He was sure Liam and Zayn could hear the shouts through the wall, but neither he nor Harry cared. 

For the first time in years, Louis slept alone. There was too much room in the king-sized bed for one person, and he was torn between trying to take up as much space as possible and curling up in the middle of it all and pretending Harry was with him. The latter option won. Louis surrounded himself with pillows, trying to recreate the feel of Harry’s body around him, but the pillows were too soft. He needed Harry’s solidness, the firm press of his back against Harry’s chest, and the heat of Harry’s skin between his fingertips. 

For the first time in years, Louis woke up alone.

 

~

 

Louis blinks and lets a groan of frustration escape his teeth at remembering their fight from the night before. His knuckles have gone ghost-white from gripping the balcony railing so tightly, and when he tries to let go it aches. 

He leans over the railing just a little farther. They’re on the top floor, and the street running below the balcony is empty. His grip relaxes just a bit, and he sighs. He’s scared out of his mind, but he pushes that away. _Scared isn’t an option anymore, Tomlinson,_ he tells himself. _It never was._  

He can’t live like this. Boxed in by words on a sheet, insulted every day for things so fundamental he can’t change even if he wanted to. Separated from the one person who makes everything worthwhile. It’d be just like jumping the fence at home. 

He puts one foot on the lower rail. 

Suddenly, Harry’s ringing laugh cuts through to his ears like an arrow, and his heart feels like it’s been physically beaten black and blue. How, in the lost space of his mind that he’s retreated to, has he managed to see only the distance and not _Harry_? Harry, with the curly hair and the bright green eyes and the sentences that take forever to amble out of his mouth and the gentle way he always seems to know exactly what Louis needs? They’ve been awkward lately, but suddenly that didn’t matter anymore. Harry is Harry, and Harry would never just stop caring. And if Louis is being truthful, neither would he. 

Horrified at himself, Louis pries his hands from the railing and reels back several steps, backing up into the sliding door. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, turning his head to glance in the direction of Harry’s laugh. 

When he looks back to the balcony, he’s not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> The bit talking about the last X Factor tour show was inspired by tumblr user [tracedust](http://tracedust.tumblr.com)'s tags on [this post](http://loumakeshimstrong.tumblr.com/post/70469963554/mystardustmelody-someofmylives-queentommo)
> 
> Come visit me on [tumblr](http://lousarrowharrysheart.tumblr.com)?


	2. Chapter 2

“Who the _hell_ are you and how did you get onto my balcony?” Louis demands. 

Standing, right in the spot where he was about to jump, is a young man who couldn’t be much older than twenty-three. He has blond hair swept up into a quasi-quiff and blue eyes with a halo of gold around the pupil. He looks like a normal lad, in an American flag tank top, skinny jeans, and white Converse high-tops. “Hey,” he says conversationally. “I’m Niall. Guardian Angel, Junior Class.” An Irish accent laces his words, giving them a soft lilt. 

“Guardian Angel, Junior Class,” Louis repeats in disbelief. He raises an eyebrow. What the hell is he talking about? Louis has always heard stories of heavenly intervention, of the sense of someone watching over you. But to have an actual angel standing right in front of you? “Mental,” he mutters. “Alright, so where are your wings, then, if you’re an angel?” 

The angel—Niall, Louis remembers—leans against the balcony railing. “Haven’t earned them yet,” he says. “I’ve been sent to protect you. If I do that, if I save you, I earn my wings.” 

“Save me,” Louis says again. “I’m sorry, forgive me if I’m being cynical, but I don’t need saving.” 

“You were about to jump from an eighteenth floor balcony,” Niall shoots back. 

“But I didn’t.” 

“You almost did.” 

“I stepped away.” 

“You only stepped away when you heard Harry laugh.” 

Louis narrows his eyes skeptically. “How do you know who Harry is?” 

“He’s in your file, right next to your family.” 

“I have a _file_?” Louis blurts out, but Niall pays no mind, going on. 

“He must be pretty important to you, to be in with your family.” 

Louis forgets his question and for a moment, he softens. “Yeah, he is. So what else do you know about me?”

“I know that you need saving.” 

“ _Enough_ with that, Jesus Christ,” Louis grumbles before wondering briefly whether he should be swearing like that in front of an angel. “I told you. I don’t need saving.” 

“And I told you, you almost jumped from an eighteenth floor balcony. But you know know who saved you that time? _Harry_. It wasn’t me.” 

“So then why are you here?” It comes out sharper than Louis means it, but he still doesn’t see the point of Niall being here. 

“What if Harry hadn’t laughed right when he did? What are you going to do when he’s not there for you?” 

“He’s always been there for me,” Louis spat out bitterly, affronted that Niall would even suggest that Harry wouldn’t be there. “You have no idea.” 

“That’s not what I meant. What would have happened if he wasn’t here? Who would have saved you then?” 

Louis stops midway to another retort. For an angel, Niall’s pretty damn sassy. Were angels supposed to be sassy? Well, angels weren’t really supposed to be flitting around in Converse and skinny jeans either, so. “I don’t know,” he says miserably. 

“I know. So that’s why I’m here,” Niall says, his voice softening. “Louis…I know you’ve been having some trouble, but they wouldn’t give me any details…so, _why_?” 

Louis has never been one to really talk about his feelings, but he finds everything spilling out all at once. He tells Niall everything, from meeting Harry in the men’s toilet to last night’s fight. He has a proper strop about management, which he hasn’t gotten to do to anyone other than his bandmates. By the time he finishes, he’s nearly in tears and his voice is breaking. 

“Niall, it’s just…I’m just wondering if it’s worth it anymore. Any of this.” Louis throws an arm out, not really sure what he’s indicating. 

“But what about Harry?” Niall asks. “I know he means a lot to you, but from the way you talk about him, it’s way more than just a relationship, it’s…it’s like he’s your anchor or something.” 

Louis almost bursts into tears at that, thinking of the anchor tattoo Harry got in the winter to go along with Louis’ rope. But he doesn’t tell Niall about that. “Sometimes I just wonder if they’d all be better off without me,” he admits. “And not just like, without me in the band. Without me here at all.” 

“Louis, if you jump from here Harry’s going to think it was his fault,” Niall says, his voice taking on a sudden edge. “He’ll never forgive himself. Is that what you want?" 

“No, no, _no_! Not like _that_ ,” Louis amends. “I meant like, if I just never existed at all. It’s not like the world would end if Louis Tomlinson had never been born, right?” 

Niall just looks at him curiously. “Do you want to find out?” 

Louis’ face smooths out, his smirk fading. “What—what d’you mean?” 

“I can show you what it’d be like if you never existed,” Niall says as casually as he’d mention going to McDonald’s and getting lunch. 

Louis’ frown returns, and he chews on the inside of his cheek bitterly. “I bet it’s loads easier for everyone else.” 

Niall’s face turns to a look of sympathy. “No,” is all he says. 

“Um, yeah, I think so,” Louis scoffs. Niall looks like he’s about to protest, but Louis doesn’t want to hear it; he cuts across him to say, “No, it’s true. We wouldn’t be having issues with management because I wouldn’t be here to bitch about it. Harry wouldn’t have to deal with the obnoxious _nutter_ of a boyfriend that I am and we wouldn’t be dealing with all this bullshit the media’s determined to make up…” Louis turns on his heel and stalks to the balcony next to Niall, slamming his fist on the railing, Niall reaches out to grip Louis’ forearm suddenly; Louis figures the angel is afraid he might try to jump again. Honestly, though, Louis just needs something to lean on. 

“Hey, Lou,” Niall says, and Louis’ head snaps up at the use of his nickname.  Only his closest mates call him that, but he doesn’t really mind it coming from the angel. Somehow, it feels natural. “You really think that?” 

“I know it.” 

Niall looks disappointed. A light but sudden breeze ruffles Louis’ hair, raising gooseflesh on his arms. He feels…different. Lighter, almost, in a weird way. 

“It’s done,” Niall says. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You were never born. Louis Tomlinson doesn’t exist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you think so far in the comments :) x
> 
> or come say hello on [tumblr](http://lousarrowharrysheart.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for an instance of offensive homophobic language -- didn't want to catch anyone by surprise there in case that could be a trigger for anyone.

Louis Tomlinson doesn’t exist. 

The words echo in Louis’ mind, and he frowns. “What are you _talking_ about?” 

“You said you wanted to know what it would be like if you never existed. So I’m showing you,” Niall explains patiently. 

Louis shakes his head. He’s got to be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Is Zayn on something next door? Maybe this is all in his head. “But…but like, I’m still here. Physically,” he points out, poking himself in the chest just to check. Yeah, he’s solid, all right. “Like, I can feel myself and all.” 

“Why don’t you go over to Liam and Zayn’s room and see how they’re all doing?” Niall suggests. 

“Uh, yeah, okay.” Louis’ still confused, but he does what Niall says. He heads back inside, the sudden warmth of being inside hitting him like a soft pillow; he realises just how cold he’s gotten from standing out on the balcony. His hand rests on the handle of the door connecting his and Harry’s room to Liam and Zayn’s. If this is all really happening, then he’s got no idea what to expect. 

“Go on,” the angel prods gently. 

“I bet they’re just fine without me.” It comes out in a rush, as an afterthought, and suddenly Louis isn’t sure he wants to see this. He knows they would probably be better off and things would be easier, but he’s also torn up as he thinks about what they’d all be like without him. Would Liam still be the by-the-book Daddy Directioner? Would Harry still be as shy as he’d been when they first met? Having no real worth in the band had always been a fear buried deep in the recesses of his subconscious, and the prospect of seeing that confirmed scared the shit out of him. 

“You might be surprised.” 

Heart thudding in his chest, Louis opens the door. 

Liam, Zayn, and Harry are all sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, Harry in between the two other boys. He’s curled up into a ball that’s impossibly small for someone of his stature, and Zayn has a protective arm wrapped around the younger boy. Harry looks so close to tears that it breaks Louis’ heart. 

“Haz, babe, I’m so sorry, I—” He moves to go to his boyfriend, but Niall stops him with a hand on Louis’ shoulder. 

“He can’t see you or hear you, Lou,” Niall says before Louis has a chance to whack the angel for keeping him from Harry. “I told you. This is what it would be like if you didn’t exist.” 

“So I’m like a ghost,” Louis says. 

“Kind of. They don’t know you’re here. They don’t even know anyone named Louis Tomlinson.” 

Louis doesn’t respond to that, just watches helplessly as Harry cries into Zayn’s shoulder. Louis’ only seen him like this once, after one day of particularly awful slurs, and the memory still aches. 

But the way Liam looks over at Zayn and Harry is concerned, but not alarmed. It’s almost like this is a normal occurrence. “Zayn, take his phone,” Liam says, reaching over to rub Harry’s back. 

“Haz, come on, let me have this.” Somehow, Zayn manages to coax Harry into uncurling his right fist, and Louis sees that he’d been clutching his phone. His Harry’s phone background was the two of them; he wonders briefly what this Harry’s background is. 

Harry sniffles, and Louis has to sit down. If he’s on his feet any longer, he won’t be able to stop himself from running over and cradling Harry in his arms and carding his fingers through his curls. 

“Why, Zayn?” Harry sobs out. “Why do they hate me so much?” 

“Harry, it’s not your fault. They’re twats, they don’t see what a good person you are,” Zayn whispers, ruffling Harry’s hair like he’s petting a dog. _He’s doing it wrong,_ Louis thinks. _Harry doesn’t like it that way_ , he wants to shout. Louis knows everything about Harry, every curve and plane of his body, what every twinge of emotion looks like on his face, and suddenly he wonders if, in this existence, Liam and Zayn ever found out those things. 

Harry hiccups a few times before he can speak again. “I wasn’t even doing anything with him. We were just out getting coffee.” 

“I know, Haz, and they’re idiots for not believing you. They’re _wrong_ , can’t you see that? Don’t listen to them, how can you let yourself believe that when they do nothing about the rumours?” Liam tries to soothe. 

Louis furrows his brow. “What happened?” he asks, looking to Niall. 

Niall’s expression twists, like he’s torn on whether or not to tell Louis. He does, though. “You know those kids from Union J? The ones who came fourth on the X Factor a couple of years after you guys were on it?” 

Louis nods, smiling briefly. They’d met them a few times, and they were all lovely. “Yeah.” 

“And you know how your management told you they wouldn’t do anything to protect you and Harry from rumours and everything like that?” 

Louis nods, throat tightening with residual anger. “I do.” 

“Well, Harry was out with George—the one that everyone kept comparing to Harry—getting coffee, and they got papped, and…” Niall trails off, chewing on his lower lip. 

It hits Louis all at once. “He’s not allowed to be out,” he says slowly, “and when he was papped today…management did nothing to protect him from the slurs.” 

“Worse,” Niall says, motioning back to the scene in front of them. “Listen.” 

Harry’s buried his face back in Zayn’s jumper. “But what kind of management calls their own client a faggot?” 

“The _fuck_?!” Louis explodes. He’s a step away from throwing a lamp. Literally. He could take one step to the side, grab the lamp off the desk, and chuck it at the wall. “What the hell kind of _bullshit_ is this?” 

Niall just looks at him sadly. “He doesn’t have you to stand up to management for him.” 

“But what about Liam and Zayn?” 

“They don’t have the pull you did. You know that. You were always the loudest, and while it didn’t always make things work out the way you wanted, you at least made them pay attention to you.” 

Liam’s voice interrupts whatever Louis is about to say next. “Zayn, take Harry to the other room,” he suggests quietly. “I want to talk to you, and Harry needs…” 

“Who knows what Harry needs?” Zayn cuts across him. “I sure don’t. What makes you think you do?” 

Liam sighs, like it’s a fight they’re having for the twentieth time. “Please, just…he’s going to keep on like this, and I do need to talk to you.” 

Zayn seems to soften, nodding and then ducking his head to whisper to Harry. “Hey, Haz, m’gonna get you in your bed, alright?” 

Harry just sniffs and leans on Zayn’s arm, standing unsteadily. They walk right past Niall and Louis into the adjoining room, and Louis pokes his head in to watch them. He bets Zayn doesn’t tuck Harry in the way he likes best. 

Zayn, to his credit, does at least try. It’s not his fault he doesn’t know, Louis thinks. 

“They don’t know how to take care of him,” he mutters, shaking his head. The urge to run to Harry and hold him tight till they both fall asleep is too strong, but somehow he manages to resist. “They don’t know what he needs. How is…how are they even…” 

Niall nudges him to make him shut up. “Just listen. You’ll figure out everything.” 

Louis watches as Zayn shuts off the light in Harry’s room and returns to Liam, shutting the adjoining door behind him. 

“Liam, what the hell are we supposed to do?” Zayn sighs, collapsing onto the bed. 

“I don’t know, Zayn, I don’t know.” Liam buries his face in his hands. “We can’t go on like this. They’re killing Harry slowly, and we’re going with him.” 

“And we’re stuck with these bastards for another two years. For fuck’s sake. If only this contract was only for three years, we’d be done with them by now.” 

“Wait a second,” Louis interrupts, looking to Niall, “we changed management companies a few days ago.” 

Niall shakes his head. “Not in this universe. It was you, remember?” 

Louis pauses. Yeah, he remembers. It was he who had pushed the decision not to re-sign with their first company, and look how well that had turned out. But it looked like staying with the first was only turning out worse for these three. 

“You know Harry wants to break the contract,” Liam says, his voice low and nervous. 

“I don’t blame him. This isn’t good for us.” 

“But we do that, and there’ll be a load of legal issues and they’ll probably sue us and that’s the last thing we need. I just—I just want to sing, Zayn, and I know you and Harry do, too.” Liam tangles his fingers in his hair, face riddled with worry. “But I don’t know what to do. I want to do what’s best for all of us but how the hell am I supposed to do that when we’re so…boxed in like this?” 

Zayn just looks sad. “I don’t know. They have to realise what they’re doing to Harry.” 

“No, they don’t, because he doesn’t _tell_ them!” Liam exclaims. “You know how he is. They’re the last people he’d want to talk about his feelings to. He thinks they’ll just tell him to grow a pair.” 

“Because they would,” Zayn retorts. “But come on, Li. All the papers have been saying they see something’s off. It’s not just us who sees that Harry’s smiles are fake these days, it’s the entire world. Management needs to wake the fuck up and realise it too.” 

“The papers are also saying they don’t understand how we’ve even stayed together this long, you know that, right?” Liam points out. 

Zayn furrows his brows. “What?” 

Liam rolls his eyes. “That’s right, you’re never on Twitter. Anyway, the critics are saying they expected us to break up before we even put our first album out.” 

“Well, they’ve been saying that since we finished the X Factor. They say that about all the bands that come off the show.” 

“Yeah, well, they haven’t come off it for three and a half years,” Liam huffs, pulling his mobile phone from his pocket and scrolling through something. “Look. Look at this one.” 

Zayn takes the phone and stares at the screen. “What?” he says. “No clear leader?  Something missing in the harmonies? The fuck—‘As a band, they seem to function as solely that, a band, not the brothers they claim to be.’ This is _bullshit_.” He throws the phone down on the bed with a grunt. “What else do they want? We do three-part harmonies. You’re our leader. We _are_ brothers. What are they looking for from us?” 

“We’re doing everything we can,” Liam says with a sigh. 

“I know. But why aren’t they seeing it?” 

“Is it because neither of us know what Harry needs?” Liam wonders aloud. 

“I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m knackered. It’s been a trying day.” Zayn strips down to his pants and crawls into bed. 

“I should do the same.” Liam disappears into the toilet, and then the room is silent except for the sound of Zayn’s breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for reading, and comments are welcome! I want to know what you guys think :) x
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://lousarrowharrysheart.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of automobile accident deaths, in case that's triggering for anyone.

“Well, there you have it,” Niall says softly after a minute of silence. 

Louis just shakes his head. He’s got no idea what to say. How is he supposed to react to this? Of course he hates seeing them all like this. Liam looking lost, Zayn getting frustrated, and Harry breaking at the seams is everything this band shouldn’t be. “This sucks,” is all he ends up saying. 

“You’re starting to see,” Niall notes. 

“Well, I’m starting to see, but they could probably get through this stuff on their own,” Louis points out, uselessness settling in his chest. 

The angel shoots him an exasperated look. “You really think they’re going to be okay after something like this?” 

“Well, alright, but I still don’t see why they need _me_. What about Lou or Paul or anyone else?” 

Niall sighs. “Come on. Let me show you something else, and then maybe you’ll understand. Close your eyes.” 

“What?” 

“Just close them.” 

Louis does, furrowing his brow. So he’s standing on a balcony with a wingless angel in a world where he doesn’t even exist. By this point, though, he’s starting to think this must all be a dream. 

He feels a soft wind on his face again, much like the breeze before he was wiped from everyone’s memories, and then he’s being told to open his eyes again. 

Louis blinks, and once his eyes focus again he’s standing at the end of his driveway in Doncaster. “What, what? How the hell did we get here?” he demands. “We just traveled a couple thousand miles in about three seconds and you can’t even fly.” 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t get you from here to there in three seconds,” Niall shoots back with a grin before sobering quickly. “But here we are, where you grew up.” 

Louis’ about to ask how Niall knew his hometown before he remembers. His _file_. He pictures a filing cabinet perched atop a fluffy cloud somewhere up in heaven that holds a folder containing his entire life, like his permanent record at school. 

It’s overcast in Doncaster, with the sun hidden behind the clouds but still trying to peek through. Louis can’t help but think how surreal it all is, looking at his house just seconds after standing on the balcony of a hotel halfway across the world. His house is the same as when he left it after their break—almost. The bright pink and yellow flower garden that his mum used to take so much pride in is nothing more than a few melancholy daisies. The front lawn, in contrast, is a vibrant green. Too green. Louis remembers it dull and trampled from constant outdoor play. “Niall—” 

Niall cuts him off with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry you have to see this,” he says softly, “but you need to. You’ll start to understand.” He gestured to the front door. “Go on in.” 

Louis’ hands are shaking as he opens the front door and steps inside his house. 

Inside, it’s quiet. The radio isn’t on, there’s nothing on the telly, and there’s not a voice to be heard, which is strange. Usually Lottie’s on the phone or the Phoebe and Daisy are playing or the new twins are fussing. But not now. Louis frowns. “Where is everyone? Does anyone even live here?” 

Niall purses his lips. “You might want to go to the living room.” 

Louis pauses again. The same feeling he had before entering Liam and Zayn’s hotel room sets in—the fear of what he’ll find on the other side of the door, the uncertainty of whether he actually wants to know. “Niall, can’t you just…why can’t you just tell me?” he asks, his voice cracking on the last two words.

Niall shakes his head. “I don’t want to be the one to tell you. It’s best you don’t hear it from me.”

“Oh, shit,” Louis mutters. “That means it’s really bad, isn’t it?”

“Come on, I’ll go with you.” Niall places a hand on Louis’ shoulder and guides him to the living room. On the way, they pass through the kitchen, and Louis stops to look at the refrigerator. It’s covered with drawings, just as he remembers it, but none of them are his. Of course not—he doesn’t exist in this universe, he reminds himself. He recalls how every time he was home and would go to the refrigerator for food, he’d see a crayon drawing of Spider-Man that he did when he was little, his name scrawled in the corner in his five-year-old handwriting. Now, where that picture used to be, is a coloured pencil picture of flowers in a vase, by “Félicité, Age 7.” Louis smiles to himself. He remembers that one too, and he’d proud it got that space, front and centre, on the fridge door.

“Lou? You coming?” Niall’s voice interrupts his reverie, and Louis shakes his head to bring himself back.

“Yeah, sorry. Just stopped by to took,” he explains, waving his hand to indicate the drawings. “Look, Fizzy’s flowers are where my Spider-Man used to be. Hers looks nicer on the fridge, I have to admit.” Louis smiles fondly, remembering the day she brought that home. They’d all cooed and admired the drawing, and he had to admit, it was pretty good for a seven-year-old. 

Suddenly Niall’s right in front of him, hands resting on both of Louis’ shoulders. “Lou…listen,” Niall says slowly. His words feel measured to the point of robotic, too careful. “I know I just said I didn’t want to tell you what happened here, but…yeah, it’s bad. And I’m sorry you have to see this, but, well, you have to.” 

Louis’ completely bewildered. Why is Niall acting so grave and cryptic? “Niall, it’s like someone _died_ in here or something,” he mutters with a shake of his head, shaking Niall’s hands off his shoulders and walking into the living room. 

His entire family is sat in a circle on the living room floor, something in the middle that Louis can’t see over their heads. His mum is there, and her fiancé, along with all of his siblings—hold on. Louis counts five. There should be six. “Wait a minute. Where’s Fizzy?” 

Niall takes his arm and leads him over to the sofa. “Lou, I—” 

Louis yanks his arm away and stands over the circle. In the centre is a single candle and a photograph of his sister when she was younger. It all comes together like a trainwreck. His mouth opens to shout something, anything, but the words die on his tongue before they can make it out. 

“Louis, sit. Please. You look like you’re going to collapse,” Niall tells him gently but firmly. 

“No. No, no, no, no, no, this doesn’t make any sense,” Louis babbles, brow furrowing as Niall leads him over to the couch and they both sit down. “What…what happened? And _don’t_ tell me I’ll find out, I want to hear it from you so I know I’m not just making things up in my head.” 

Niall sighs, his eyes soft and concerned. “Do you remember that day you were playing outside six years ago—well, your sisters were, and you were watching them run around and play blind man’s buff?” 

Louis nods, remembering that day well. “Yeah.” 

“And do you remember when Fizzy almost stepped into the street, but you pulled her back?” 

Louis nods again. He recalls a silvery-blue BMW from out of town tearing down their quiet street, far too fast for the speed limit. He’d seen in coming and pulled Fizzy back onto the sidewalk while the car zoomed by. His stomach is churning as he realises what happened. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god.” On the last word, his voice cracks, and he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes to keep the tears from falling. It must have happened so fast, he thinks. Just like that, the girl who loved dancing and playing dress-up and singing at the piano with Louis…gone. 

Niall holds his arms out and Louis falls onto his shoulder, biting his lip raw with the effort not to cry. He can feel himself shaking but he can’t stop. 

When he’s pulled himself together a bit, he sits up again. “Alright, I—I get it. I’m not totally useless. I’ve learned my lesson, now put me back.” 

Niall looks like he’s about to nod, but he shakes his head. “Not yet. There’s one more thing left you need to see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still with me after this, I'm so, so sorry for you. It'll only get worse before it gets better. But it **does** get better, I promise!
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://lousarrowharrysheart.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I'm sorry this has taken so long! I got a bit wrapped up in other projects, but I managed another chapter of this. One left to go. Thank you for sticking with me, you guys are great xx
> 
> Major triggers here for implications of suicide and cutting.
> 
> I'm sorry in advance for what's about to happen.

When Louis opens his eyes again, he’s back on the balcony. It’s morning now, the grey dawn washing the city in dull colours. Eighteen floors below, on the street, the sidewalks have begun to awaken. People scurry along, cars and taxis fill the road, and bicycles weave in between. Louis frowns, looking down at the scene and wondering how many people he can see from right here. 

The sound of Liam shouting from inside draws Louis’ attention back to them, and he glances at Niall with a confused expression. The angel only looks back at Louis with a look that can only be described as pity, as though Louis is about to make a fatal mistake but there’s nothing that can stop him from doing himself in. 

Heart pounding with trepidation, Louis places his hand on the sliding door but pauses, just as he had before opening the door the night before. From the way Liam was shouting, it was over more than just Zayn leaving a mess on the floor. The lad’s even swearing, something he hardly ever does unless he’s extremely worked up. 

“You can go,” Niall prods him gently. 

“I know,” Louis replies, words soft from nervousness. If he speaks any louder, his voice will crack and he doesn’t want that. “Niall, I’m…” 

“Scared?” Niall supplies. Louis swallows hard and nods. “Louis, I need you to remember something. What you’re seeing is only what would happen if you never existed at all. It’s not real, but it might well be if you left. It’s hard to see, but you need to know. You need to understand the impact you have on people.” 

Impact? He’s already seen the impact back at home with his family. What more could Niall possibly need to show him to demonstrate this impact? Whatever this is is just going to be the final nail in the coffin. Jaw set in determination, Louis slides the door open. 

Liam’s shouts are coming from Harry’s room, and there’s also a sound that Louis has heard only twice before in his entire life—Zayn is crying. “Fucking hell.” He walks into Harry’s room, but Niall stops him by the telly, keeping him from going in any farther. He can’t see any of the boys, but the light in the toilet is on. 

“Harry!” Liam is yelling. His voice is coming from the bathroom. “Haz, what the _fuck_ , you can’t fucking do this, wake up, come on, _come on_.” 

The colour drains from Louis’ face and he feels like his heart’s stopped beating. “No, no, no…” 

“Zayn, I could have sworn we threw them all out!” 

“Well, obviously, we fucking didn’t!” Zayn screams before storming out. Even though Louis’ invisible, he steps to the side to let Zayn back into the other room. A piece of paper flutters to the ground, and Louis picks it up. It’s in Harry’s handwriting, and the words break his heart. 

 _All I wanted was to sing._  

Louis’ heart has definitely stopped. There’s something pressing in on his chest, making him want to collapse into himself, keeping his lungs from drawing in a breath. “Niall…” He looks at the angel, silently praying for this not to be what he thinks it is. 

Niall nods, once, and Louis knows. “No.” He can’t stand anymore, needs to hold onto something, or lie down, yes, that sounds like a good idea. His vision goes blurry as he stumbles toward one of the beds and falls facedown onto it. He can tell from the scent that it’s Harry’s, and he loses it. The sobs wrack his body in great waves, making the mattress shake under him. He can still hear Liam’s pleading with fate and Zayn’s crying in the next room. The pressure on his chest breaks some kind of dam, and the tears flood out, soaking the sheets. 

The bed dips, and he knows Niall is sitting next to him. “I’m sorry, Lou,” the angel says, carding a hand through Louis’ fluffy hair. “But you had to know.” 

“I knew very well from what you showed me at home,” Louis snaps, muffled by the way he has his face buried in the comforter. “Why did you have to show me this, too?” 

“Because this was important as well. You saw what your family was like without you. This is what the band—your best mates—are like without you. This is what Harry is like without you.” Niall’s voice softens. “You made him strong.” 

Louis sniffles and nods, sitting up a bit and reaching out blindly. Niall sits beside him, arms around Louis’ shoulders and waist, letting him melt into his side and cry. “I get it, alright? I get it. A lot. I understand that I’m important and that I almost fucked up. Now can you put me the fuck back and put things back to normal?” he chokes out. 

“I will,” Niall promises. “But not right now. First,” he cuts across Louis’ protests, “you need to sleep. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, all will be as you remember it.” 

Reluctant, Louis extricates himself from Niall’s arms, kicks his shoes off, and lets the angel tuck him into bed. He reaches for the pillow. That smells like Harry, too. It brings a fresh wave of tears to his eyes, and he clutches it tight to his chest as he cries, breathing in the scent. Eventually, he cries himself out, the sobs giving way to quiet hiccups, and the familiarity lulls him to sleep.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I have to say is, it'll get better, I promise.
> 
> Again, thanks for staying with me and I hope you stick around for the happy ending~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I guess I was on a roll and just wrote the end. Here it is, the final chapter!
> 
> Warning for gross fluff.

With a groan, Louis opens his eyes, blinking at the light slanting in through the blinds. He’s still holding the pillow close to his chest. Suddenly, someone puts a hand on his shoulder and he bolts up in bed and surprise. 

Harry is lying in bed next to him, blinking dazedly. His hair is a mess from sleep, he still has the comforter wrapped around him, and he looks utterly lost. But he’s _here_ , he alive and well and healthy and in the span of a second, Louis sees every morning he’s woken up with Harry in the last three years. It’s so cliché it hurts him as soon as he realises what’s happened in his mind, but he doesn’t care. He sees Harry at seventeen, having just woken up and stumbling into the kitchen in the flat they shared. He sees Harry at eighteen, curls splayed out on the pillow around him like a halo. He sees almost four years of mornings just like this and god, there’s no way he would ever trade that for anything in the world. 

Louis immediately tackles him into a hug. “Harry, Harry, Haz, I missed you so much,” he whispers, tears from a different emotion welling in his eyes. 

“I missed you, too, babe.” There’s a note of question in Harry’s voice that Louis pretends not to hear. “It felt weird sleeping alone,” Harry admits, pulling back a moment to look Louis in the face. 

“Yeah. I missed you,” Louis says again. He did miss falling asleep next to Harry, so that’s what he lets Harry think he meant. Looking down at his boyfriend, the boy—man, now—that he’s been in love with from the start, he can’t believe he was so idiotic. How could he let this go? How could he give up on Harry? Harry would never give up on him. 

Harry leans up and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, _I’m_ sorry. I’m sorry I was such a twat, and ignored you for days, and that I yelled at you for something that wasn’t your fault,” Louis blurts out. 

Harry, bless him, just smiles and kisses him again. “You don’t have to apologise, Lou. I just want you back. I want us back to the way we were before.” 

Louis nods, resting his head on Harry’s chest and listening to the beat of his heart and the sounds of his even breaths, just to remind himself that Harry is really, truly alive and with him. “Management?” he dares to ask. 

To his surprise, Harry laughs. Actually laughs, not the kind of cynical derisive snort that they’re prone to when management is brought up. “While you were out on the balcony last night, contemplating life, Liam and Zayn had a word with management. Many words, actually.” Louis knows Harry’s grinning like an idiot before he even lifts his head to look, but he does anyway just to see it for himself. “They basically threatened to break the contract if they didn’t let us do what we wanted. It turns out there’s a clause in there that also says we have the right to break it if at least half of us want to, or at least dispute other sections of it. They were the half we needed, Lou.” 

“So…we don’t have to hide?” 

Harry shakes his head, arms snaking around Louis’ shoulders and holding him closer yet. “No, boo. We don’t have to hide anymore.” He sits up, Louis in his lap. “Now what do you say treat ourselves to room service? Breakfast in bed, yes?” 

~ 

Later, when it’s time to head to the venue, a blissful, fucked-out, still giggling Louis and Harry join Liam and Zayn in the hallway. 

Zayn raises an eyebrow and says nothing, but Liam makes a comment. “You two look like you’ve—er—sorted things out.” 

Louis looks at Harry with a smile so fond he feels like his heart could burst. “Yeah, we did.” 

~ 

That night on the tour bus, Louis wakes up to the soft sound of a bell, sounding like it’s coming from far off in the distance. He’s curled up in Harry’s bunk with him, the younger boy’s warm arms wrapped around Louis’ waist. Even just the one night of sleeping alone made him miss this, and in this moment he swears to himself he’d never be so stupid as to let Harry go ever again. 

Outside, in the narrow hall between the bunks, Louis hears a shuffling sound, like someone was walking. It’s probably Liam getting up for a wee again. Still, he pokes his head out, curious. He turns his head to the right just in time to see a retreating figure with blond hair, white Converse, and a pair of feathery white wings on his back. 

Louis snuggles back into Harry, who huffs out a little breath through his nose and holds Louis tighter. Louis doesn’t mind and leans into the touch. The events of just twenty-four hours ago are running through his mind, as he tries to make sense of it all. It can’t have been a dream. Funny, he thinks, Niall saved Louis so Louis could save Harry. Everybody needs someone, some time or another. Maybe just for a few hours, maybe for their entire lives. 

 _Ding_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That bit at the end with the bell...I absolutely had to. 
> 
> So, happy ending for all! If you've stuck with me through the emotional wringer that this fic has become, thank you so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos. I really really appreciate it. Love you!
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://tomlinrover.tumblr.com)


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